


Happy Belated Birthday

by Dreamin



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Birthday, F/M, Light Angst, Post-Episode: s04e02 The Lying Detective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:46:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22165963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamin/pseuds/Dreamin
Summary: The day after Sherlock's birthday brings its own surprise.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Comments: 18
Kudos: 81





	Happy Belated Birthday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SimplyShelbs16](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplyShelbs16/gifts).

Molly side-eyed her buzzing phone on the table. The cake place was busy, she had just managed to get a table, and now she just _knew_ it was Bart’s calling to see if she could come in. Sighing resignedly, she took the call.

In a nutshell, yes, she needed to come in, there had been an apartment block fire. She ended the call just as John and Sherlock walked in. John looked as well as could be expected but Sherlock, he still looked like hell. _Too thin, still has the stitches and the burst blood vessel in his eye, hasn’t shaved, but at least he’d washed his hair._ Her heart went out to him.

Still, he was smiling and it actually looked genuine. “Hello, Molly,” he said as he took off his Belstaff and hat. Then he noticed her expression. “You’ve been called in to work.”

“What?” John asked, confused. “But it’s your day off.”

“Can’t be helped, I’m afraid,” she said as she stood up. She hesitated briefly before holding out the wrapped present and giving him what she hoped was a warm smile. “Happy Birthday, Sherlock. I’m sorry I can’t stay.”

“It’s alright,” he said, his tone softer than she was used to and she wondered if he was too tired to speak louder. “And thank you, I’m sure I’ll make good use of the microscope.”

“How did you … never mind,” muttered John. “Call me when you get a chance, Molly, we can reschedule.”

“No, it’s alright, you two enjoy the cakes, I hear they’re very good.” She started to pull on her coat and was surprised when Sherlock helped her. “Thank you. I’ll see you both later.” She left the cake place and caught a cab to Bart’s, wondering if Sherlock’s change was permanent or, like his oddly ginger facial hair, sure to be gone as soon as he was feeling himself again.

* * *

Molly left Bart’s the next morning, just as dawn was breaking. She hurt all over, including her heart after having to do post-mortems on an entire family. Wanting nothing more than a chance to break down, she was about to catch a cab when a black government car pulled up to the kerb in front of her.

That was the final straw. “No,” she said, loudly and crossly enough for the driver to hear her. “I’m not dealing with this shite right now, not after the night I’ve had. Tell Mycroft to … to bugger off, and you can quote me.”

She started walking quickly in the opposite direction the car was facing even though it was the wrong way to get home, her arms crossed in front of her chest in an attempt to ward off the early January chill. It didn’t take long for her to hear a car door to open then close and footsteps coming in her direction.

“Molly, wait!” That was Sherlock, sounding a lot more desperate than she’d ever heard him.

Turning to him, she was surprised to see he was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday and it looked like he hadn’t slept at all. “Sherlock? What is it? Are you working a case for Mycroft?”

“It’s nothing like that,” he said gently. “Please, get in the car? I’ll take you home and we can talk.”

Something in his tone made her feel even more weary. _I was up all night and he wants to have a gab session? _“I don’t want to talk, not now. Whatever you have to say, it can wait until I’ve slept at least six hours.”

“No, it can’t.” He held out his hand. “Please, Molly.”

She was just so tired and fed up that she ignored the hand and the plea in his eyes. “No, Sherlock. Not this time.” She turned and started walking away again, feeling his eyes on her.

She caught a cab a block away. The driver went back the way she’d come, passing Sherlock, who was still standing outside the government car. He watched as the cab passed then quickly got into the car.

_Don’t follow me. Don’t follow me. Don’t fol- Damn…_ Sure enough, the car was following them. She turned to the driver. “You see that black car behind us?”

“Yeah,” he said, “what about it?”

“It’s my … my ex. He’s following us. I know this sounds weird, but can you lose him?”

The driver grinned in the rear-view mirror. “No problem, it’ll be just like in the movies. It’ll run up the meter, though.”

“That’s fine,” she said quietly as she leaned back in the seat. “I’ll pay.”

“Whatever you say, Miss.”

After some fancy driving, they did manage to lose Sherlock, only for the black car to be waiting for them when the cab pulled up in front of her building.

“Looks like he beat us here,” the driver said, concerned. “Do you want me to take you somewhere else?”

“No, it’s fine,” she sighed, “he’s not abusive, just annoying.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.” She handed over the fare and a good tip. “But thank you for trying.”

“Anytime, Miss.”

Molly was pleased to see that the cab didn’t drive away until she was safely inside her building. Since Sherlock didn’t meet her on the sidewalk, she knew he was waiting for her in her flat. Sighing heavily, she took the lift up to her floor.

Sherlock wasn’t waiting for her outside her apartment, or even just inside the door. In fact, he was nowhere to be seen. _I don’t have time for this,_ she thought, _and I certainly don’t have the patience._ She finally found him asleep on her bed, fully-clothed.

_All this just because he needed a bolt-hole?!_ Too tired to wake him up and argue with him, she got ready for bed then got in beside him. It only took a moment of listening to his soft, even breathing before she fell asleep.

* * *

Molly woke up that afternoon to an arm around her waist, a chest pressed against her back, and a face buried in her hair. The far-too-intimate position was a common one when Sherlock slept over, and she knew that this time, just like every other time, they’d pretend it didn’t happen once he was awake.

_Fuck him,_ she thought darkly. _He can lock his emotions in his Mind Palace but the rest of us actually have to deal with them like adults._

“I’m sorry,” he murmured sleepily, his face still buried in her hair. “I didn’t realize how much you … both of us needed to sleep.”

“You needed a bolt-hole,” she said, keeping her tone civil. “I said months ago you could come over whenever you liked, I’m not taking that back.”

“What I needed was to spend time with the person who matters the most,” he murmured. “John and I had a … nice time at the cake place but I missed you.” He sighed painfully. “I almost lost everything in the Culverton case, from my life to your good opinion.”

_What?_ She slowly turned to look at him. “My good opinion is more important than your life?”

He gazed at her. “Molly Hooper, your good opinion of me is one of the things that give my life meaning. If I lost it, lost you, I don’t know what I’d do.”

“Why, Sherlock?” she whispered. He tried to look away but she brought a hand to his cheek, forcing him to look at her again. “Why?” Part of her felt she knew the answer but she desperately needed him to say it.

“I love you.” She stared at him long enough that he smiled awkwardly. “You still love me, right? I haven’t fallen so far of that ped-”

Molly cut him off with a kiss but before he could respond, she murmured fondly, “You’re an idiot, I’m an idiot, we’re both idiots.”

“Idiots in love?” he asked, smiling hopefully.

She laughed softly. “Yes, Sherlock, idiots in love.” She kissed him again and he responded enthusiastically. When they came up for air, she murmured, “Happy Belated Birthday, Sherlock.”


End file.
